At The Point Of No Return
by lycanus1
Summary: Snape's final thoughts on his tragic life, after what passed between him and Nagini in the Shrieking Shack.


_**DISCLAIMER:**_ Sadly, neither Sirius or Sev are mine - I'm only borrowing them. They belong to J K Rowling and Warner Bros. No copyright infringement is intended.

_**A/N:**_ This is a revised version of a fic I deleted a while back, one I wrote whilst listening to the very talented - yeah, I'm a huge fan, so deal with it - Amy Lee's_ "Tourniquet." _Although the song itself actually refers to suicide, some of the the lyrics seemed pretty appropriate to what happens here.

_**XXXXXXXXX**_

**At The Point Of No Return ... **

"So, this is it ... I'm finally dying," Snape thought as he lay crumpled and broken on the Shrieking Shack's dusty, wooden floor.

Visibility was poor and he was unsure whether the light was weak or if his eyesight was failing. He could barely make out the great serpent, Nagini's form as it slowly slithered away from him. The silence in the room was deafening and even the slightest sound had become painful.

In the end, it had been quick - frighteningly so. For a split second, he'd been sorely tempted to back out; to change his mind about what he'd planned. But when it came to it, he'd remained resolute. He had no choice. Not anymore. There would be no going back ... There was nothing to go back to. Nothing to live for, since that fateful night at the Ministry of Magic. When Sirius had fallen through the Veil.

The obstinate, reckless, lovable Gryffindor mutt - Snape's only reason for living - was lost to him. Forever ...

With the loss of Black, the potions master's heart was also lost and he became a shell. A ghostly shadow of the man he'd once been. All of his emotions, hopes and dreams had gone. All of the warmth, light and joy Sirius had brought into his lonely existence had vanished, only to be replaced by even more darkness, misery and heartbreak. All he was capable of feeling now was cold emptiness and pain. Endless pain ...

Afterwards, Snape had continued with his roles of spy and Deatheater as was expected and demanded of him. But with each passing day, a part of him slowly died, until he became a walking corpse ... A dead man walking ...

No one knew of the intimacy and closeness which had grown between the Head of Slytherin and the former Azkaban inmate. Of the deep and passionate love they'd felt for each other, kept hidden by mutual agreement under a cloak of hostile sarcasm, endless baiting and aggression, although the tall, pale, dark-haired professor suspected that Dumbledore had known. Known and for once, kept quiet and, unusually for him, refrained from meddling.

But now, Dumbledore too was dead. Dead by Snape's own unwilling hand. One more thing he'd been forced to do against his will and he hated himself for it. Albus Dumbledore was one of the most annoying people he'd ever had the misfortune to know; but he was also the closest he'd had to a father and he'd loved and respected him. Killing an already dying Albus, at the man's own insistence, especially when Snape was still bereft after Sirius' loss, was the cruellest punishment the fates could throw at him. It left him hated and mistrusted by the Order members, as well as isolated and irreparably broken ...

There would be no salvation for him following Dumbledore's demise, only recrimination, suspicion and vilification, which in turn, could only lead to a life sentence in Azkaban and ultimately, his death.

In the end, his sorrow and pain had made his decision easier. Tired of life without Sirius, the man whom he'd loved and worshipped with his heart, body and soul, he allowed himself to be bitten by the venomous serpent. To succumb to eternal sleep, finally free of the Dark Lord, of the war and of a life that had always been full of grief, anger, loneliness, torture and pain. Especially the pain ...

But the pain he'd felt when Nagini's fangs had pierced his neck had been unlike anything he'd ever imagined. Cruciatus ... Sectumsempra ... Neither of them had been so excruciating as the sensation of the venom as it coursed freely through his veins, paralyzing limbs and poisoning organs at a pace which was terrifying. He could feel the perspiration and the trail of blood from the neck wound soaking his robes and his skin felt cold and clammy, yet his insides burnt with the raging poison.

"Even Avada Kedavra would have been kinder," Snape mused and smirked at the irony of his own fate. A Slytherin dying from a serpent's bite. Delirium sank in fast and he knew death would follow swiftly and for that small mercy he was grateful at least.

The room darkened, his focus became blurry and his breathing laboured. He'd somehow always known he would die alone, in the dark. Death's presence was close now, Snape could feel it and was ready to welcome its embrace.

"Sirius ..." he thought sadly as his eyes fluttered closed, "I wish things had been different, my love ... That we'd had more time ... I hope and pray that you're waiting for me, my Sirius ..."

_**XXXXX **_

_My wounds cry for the grave_  
_my soul cries for deliverance_  
_Will I be denied ?_

"Oh, God ! Professor Snape !_ Sir !_"

Snape became dimly aware of someone calling his name, of hands cradling and frantically tying to revive him. It was Potter.

_Oh, Merlin ! Out of everyone, why did bloody Potter have to find me ? Snape pondered in dismay. Even as he lay dying, the fates seemed to be laughing and conspiring against him. _

"Potter ..." he rasped, his obsidian eyes cloudy and delirious with pain. "M-My ... robes ... The p-pocket ..." Every word took what remaining strength he possessed. He willed the boy to find the shrunken pensieve which had contained all of his thoughts, memories and dreams and sighed in relief when the Gryffindor seeker found the object and cradled it gently in his hands. The boy's pure green eyes were confused and full of sorrow.

A single tear fell from Snape's eye and with a tender smile, he uttered three words before taking his last breath.

Potter gazed down at his late Professor, who's head rested gently on his lap. Completely stunned and bewildered, he'd never expected to hear the dying potions master confess something so private with such sincerity and adoration. To hear him refer to his former nemesis, as "Sirius, my love ..."

_**XXXXX**_

Snape opened his eyes and was dazzled by the light and the warmth which surrounded him. He moved his body hesitantly and was surprized to finally find himself free from pain. Cautiously, he propped himself up on his elbows and was greeted by a much-loved, sadly missed voice.

"At last, you miserable, greasy, old git ... _You_ took your bloody time getting here !"

Severus slowly and gracefully approached the sinfully handsome, dark-haired son of the noble House of Black, his jet-black robes swirling and billowing magnificently around his lean, sinewy frame.

"Still the mouthy, reckless, disrespectful mutt, I see," he sniped, yet his rich, silky voice held no malice only pure affection. "Some things never change, no matter where you are. It's so good to see you again, Siri ..." A dazzling, genuine smile lit up his pallid face, transforming one who had, in life, been considered ugly by all he knew, into a strikingly attractive man. "You waited for me ..."

Grinning euphorically, Sirius Black swiftly closed the gap between them and embraced the cool, sarcastic Slytherin warmly. His strong arms tightened around the former Deatheater, fearing he'd lose him forever if he did not.

"It's good to see you too, Sev ..." he whispered huskily, "I've truly missed you, my love ..."

**Finis**


End file.
